


In, Out. In, Out.

by polishpromdress



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Endgame, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 09:06:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12503868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polishpromdress/pseuds/polishpromdress
Summary: Happy birthday, Kara Sherman. Honestly, what were you expecting?





	1. Little Luxuries

“This is not the end. This isn’t even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.”

The sun was a funny thing. It rose and set as Dean’s eyelids opened for the first time and closed for the last. No matter what he did, it always came up for him. He'd never known to be thankful for that before.  
The mirror wasn’t usually welcoming. It revealed years of scars, skin that was begging to be buried, organs just below the surface that had learned to short circuit like it was second nature, eyes that had no light left. But, it was also an unfamiliar place. Dean hadn’t smiled this much ever, and not once in his life had he actually woken up with one that followed him as he brushed his teeth.  
So, not welcoming, but appreciated.  
A pen and notepad lay on the granite table with not a single lead or spell or coordinate or alpha werewolf spawn’s name. Instead, two words in a messy line.  
“Almond milk”  
Dean picked up the note and held it in his mouth as he poured his coffee in a travel mug Sam had found at Target for just four dollars. Dean was told that was a ‘steal’.  
The coffee was still black.  
He grabbed his keys and hopped into his car.  
Still the Impala.  
Dean stuck the note on the rearview mirror so he wouldn’t forget. He left his phone at home, an accidental luxury he had never had before. He rolled the windows down and popped in one of the raggedy tapes he had since forever from inside the glovebox. Next to his stack was new one, with mostly jazz, and classical songs that made Dean feel like his mind was dancing. He drove the same roads twice, three times, until it became close to a thousand. He had lost count by now.  
Settled in.  
It was a phrase that used to mean only bloodshed would follow, but for Dean, now it meant home.  
His cheeks were sore, and the rearview mirror revealed he was smiling without knowing it again. Dean paused for a moment to ask himself if he was maybe possessed by a demon that made him subconsciously happy. 

He pulled into the grassy make-shift lot and put the car in park. He hunkered to the trunk and opened it, almost expecting to see knives and guns laying in her bed. He picked up a tub of baseballs and his bat and closed the trunk, not thinking twice to lock the car as he walked towards the baseball diamond.  
He set up a practice batting station for the kids, and watched them pile in as he fit his hat on proudly that read “Stingray Coach”. By 9:15 all twelve fifth grade boys and Sandy, the nine year old school secretary who started a petition so she could be on the boys baseball team. Dean told her she could be on from the beginning, but it was “just something she had to do”. He saw kid Sam in her strong vocabulary and persistence, as well as her ability to prove that the smallest is not always the weakest.  
By 10am, parents began to set up chairs and tents on the first and third baseline. The Stingrays were in the dugout, telling stories and laughing huge, open mouthed laughs over spilt Gatorade. Dean went over the batting lineup on his clipboard for the fifth time before hanging it up along the chain link fence for all the players to see. They scrambled to him, falling over each other in excitement to see their names. Dean chuckled and got out of their way, spotting Sam and walking to him.  
He was setting up two lawn chairs and a blanket he lined with toys.  
“Hey, man.” Sam nodded to him with a big grin, still placing stuffed animals and books on the old quilt.  
He stood up, and ran a hand through his hair before reaching into the cooler. He handed Dean a coke, and had one as well; the both of them clinking their cans together as they had with every drink since they were old enough to hold one.  
Sam’s face lit up and he put his coke down.  
“There's that beautiful wife of yours.” Dean smirked, kissing Carlye on the cheek.  
Carlye was a college professor at the state university.  
Abstract Algebra.  
Dean thought she was the only person on the planet that gave Sam a run for his money in the brains department.  
Sam smiled that same, soft smile that seemed to stay planted on him whenever Carlye was around. He pecked her on the lips then grabbed Robbie, their first-born off her hip. Sam said he wanted to name him after his father, and he did just that.  
He began tossing him in the air and hugging him, their laughter was contagious. Dean took the bag off of Carlye’s shoulder and set it next to the chairs.  
“Uncle Dean!” Robbie shouted, which sounded more like ‘unk-e Den!’, but, he didn’t mind. When Robbie was born, Dean found out it was absolutely possible to love someone just a little more than his brother.  
Dean played with Robbie and laughed heartily, which he had been doing lately, and made some small talk until the assistant coach called him over. 

The kids would lose the game, but none of them cared too much (except Sandy). Dean always tried his very best, but the most important thing for him was that the kids had fun. In doing this, he found he gave them all a part of a childhood he and Sam had never had. It felt damn good. And, by coaching now, with his little brother watching, cheering along and being the official scorekeeper, it didn't matter that they didn't have this as kids; they got it back tenfold.  
“Okay, kiddos, grab your stuff then meet up again behind the bleachers.” Dean grumbled as he handed the final score sheet to the umpire.  
“Will there be snacks?” Teddy, the Vern of the group piped in.  
All the other kids looked at Teddy, then back at Dean with wide eyes.  
Dean rolled his eyes and stifled a laugh.  
“Yes, there will be snacks. Sam is getting them all out now.”  
“SAM!” The kids all screamed, running to him.  
They tackled him to the ground, which wasn't unusual. They all loved him, and they all played with Robbie every practice and game, as he was the unofficial stingray mascot.  
Dean gathered the rest of his things and started to head over; the parents packing up their chairs and planning where to go for pizza afterwards. He stopped where Carlye was standing, watching Sam with all the kids with a hand over her eyes to block the sun.  
“Good game, coach.” She smiled, punching him lightly in the shoulder.  
“If they had a good time that's all that matters.”  
“You're doing something great for these kids, Dean. I hope you know that.”  
Dean raised his eyebrows, throwing an arm around her. They began to walk towards the kids.  
“Some doofus you married, huh?”  
Carlye paused for a moment, still studying the group of kids and Sam.  
“What's on your mind, kid?” Dean prodded, stopping to turn and face her.  
“Nothing, really. I just... That's gotta be you one day. You're just so good with kids. They really worship you, y’know. And you're practically Robbie's third parent.”  
“Best damn godfather there is, I'll tell ya that much. Other than Corleone, of course.” Dean corrected himself with a grin.  
“I'm serious. I mean, obviously it's a lot less conventional...and more of a process but you and-”  
“Dean!” Sam yelled. “These kids are attacking me over here!”  
Dean sighed and planted a kiss on Carlye's forehead.  
“Thank you. Really.”


	2. Cozy Toes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven Years Before

Dean was in a pool of blood. He couldn’t tell if it was old or new or even his. He turned and saw his brother, his only family, his entire pride, joy, and only appreciated responsibility, unconscious, probably dead. He couldn’t speak, or even find the strength to twist his head back around.  
Cas.  
Dean knew he didn’t have much time left; he knew his life was coming to an end and there was no one who would bring him back now, and he chose to spend his last moments praying for him. For Cas. It was the only thing that felt worth doing.   
They had done it. Heaven and hell were closed, all gates destroyed, the only way in or out was through the old fashioned way, which Dean presumed he would be seeing very soon. The master demons were sent down where they belonged, and the hell raisers who claimed to be from above were stuck there-forever. Spirits would still roam, and street demons would still make deals; hunters would always hunt, and brothers would always travel the roads without a clue of the things they had missed out on.   
Dean smiled, he wasn’t ready to go yet. He hadn’t done pretty much anything on his bucket list, but he knew it was right. He closed his eyes, looking his brother over once beforehand. He breathed in, out. In, out. He let go. 

The look on Dean’s face when he woke up in a hospital bed must have been priceless, or at least that’s the story Cas would always tell at (insert any holiday here). He laughed, and laughed, mumbling something about how ‘of course this is what his heaven would look like’. Cas never forgot to mention that part over stuffing either, regardless of the color it made Dean’s face turn.  
When Sam walked into the hospital room, it was easy to see he was already crying. He told them he had heard the laughter and recognized it all the way from the vending machines. They all were lucky to be alive. And, for the first time, that’s all they would call it. Luck.

Dean was to stay in the hospital for two months; he had severe internal bleeding and a ruptured kidney. But, it wasn’t bad. In fact, When Dean would recall the best days of his life as his bones ached and hearing faded, he wouldn’t be able to skim over those months. Cas was the first to open the door to visitors at 6am, and the last to leave at 10pm. Sam, in the meantime, found them all a place to live for when everything calmed down. It became a project for him, and he poured all his energy into it. He spent hours rebuilding the house from the ground up, weeks on painting, and more time than all those put together installing the sound system for Dean that ran completely through a record player. In the end, the little cottage outside Lawrence, Kansas would be just for Cas and Dean, as Carlye would soon stumble into Sam’s life. 

One night, over the 67th hand of cards they had played, Sam began to tell Dean and Cas about the girl he met in the grocery store that day. She couldn’t reach the Cheerios, and asked Sam for help. When their eyes met, Sam told the guys shamelessly that the two stood there for half a minute in awe.   
“It was the first time in a long time I remembered why I always believed in magic.”  
Cas was the first to prod him with a thousand questions, mostly because Dean was so focused on not bursting into tears right there. 

Not many nights after this one, Sam took a break from the house and stayed with Dean all day, sending Cas off to get a real night’s sleep for once. They played Sorry!, probably getting a little too competitive. Sam was winning, which wasn’t uncommon for pretty much any game you can learn to master over time. His phone rang in his pocket, and he answered, swatting Dean’s hand away when he attempted to move his pieces backwards.   
“Yeah, anytime you want.” He checked his watch. “Until ten, so take your time. Okay. Yeah see you soon.” He hung up with a chuckle, and proceeded to play.   
Dean studied his brother. “So, when’s the wedding?”  
Sam sprung up his head, and furrowed his brow.  
“Dude, you’re nervous about the girl meeting me. Me. I mean, have you seen some of the broads I have brought home?” Dean continued.  
Sam sighed, and smiled.  
“This one’s important. You’re gonna love her.”  
“I kinda already do.” Dean moved forward, winning the round.  
“So how about you?”  
Dean shot him a look of confusion. “How about me, what?”  
“When’s the wedding?”   
Sam said the words in the most nonchalant tone, not even bothering to look up from his gameboard.   
Dean sat in silence, frozen gazing at his brother, who was still playing as if nothing had happened.   
“The good thing is, I already like him. So, you don’t need to have my little brother seal of approval or anything.”   
“Shut up.” Dean rolled his eyes.   
Still, Dean reached over and squeezed his brother’s shoulder, a grin slowly spreading on his face. The game went on, and so did the night. 

Carlye waltzed in, and the room was brighter. She did that somehow. She brought a homemade pie and some booze she snuck in from her purse. Dean looked at her like he had just found the cure to cancer. It felt like he had.   
Carlye was a military brat who had scars of her own, and didn’t wince when Sam opened up. She didn’t change the subject when politics came into conversation, and she didn’t run from life. She drank like she’d never been drunk, and she laughed with her head back, the walls echoing with the sound. She liked old school hip-hop and dressing in a new color combination everyday. Carlye’s philosophy of life was that there were about six billion people she hadn’t met, but she didn’t want a single one in her life who didn’t like a little fun. He could smell the Winchester on her from the hall.   
Winchester, but better, Dean thought.   
Soon they were buzzed, and Sam and Carlye danced around the room to the radio.   
“99.5, Kansas’s greatest rock hits!”  
Cas came in, surprising them all, Carlye pouring him a drink immediately. He told Dean over The Doors that he couldn’t sleep if he didn’t make sure he was at least still alive. He drank a little, and danced with Carlye too, after she simply insisted. He mouthed a “wow” to Sam in pure amazement.   
Later in the night, Sam and Carlye headed out, Sam flashing his brother an “I knew it” look as Cas reached for Dean’s hand when he thought they had left.   
Dean thought he might start believing in magic, too. 

Mornings began with coffee, and nights ended in conversations that were lost over the years. Days began with bare feet, and darkness ceased with socks and hand-gripped mugs. The sun rose with the promise that Dean could turn his head to the side and see Cas. The light fell with the very same promise.   
Dean worked at a local auto shop, something that damn gjinn must have gotten right. Cas was a librarian at the public library down the road. Everyday he came home with stories that he told with glimmering oceans in his eyes. Dean listened as he counted breaths, every one making him believe in humanity a little more.   
Dean fell more in love with Cas watching him become human more than he ever thought imaginable. Cas was curious about everything he had never gotten to try, and so, life became a beautiful list to check off. He watched every Clint Eastwood western, rolling his eyes when Dean recited every line. He ate different cuisines every month, insisting to try every single one before he dies. He took up smoking for a week, before Dean caught him with a right hook. It was the very first fight they’d had. It infuriated Dean even more that the whole situation made Cas a bit giddy. Dean apologized over pasta he made from scratch, burned at the bottom, but Cas would never tell. “I only hit you because smoking can kill you. And, if you think you’re leaving me now?”   
Cas was giddy again; Dean sighed with defeat and ate the pasta, looking up every other second to see how Cas liked it. Cas had four bowls. They decided to skip the dishes for the night. 

A year after Dean was allowed to come home, Sam was over. It was a Sunday, which meant one of them made dinner and they would watch an old movie. It was a tradition they still keep to this day.   
Sam was little more fidgety than normal, and unlike most Sundays, Carlye wasn’t with him. Dean knew the words that were gonna spill out of his mouth way before they even formed in Sam’s mind.   
Cas and Dean were on the couch, unnecessarily close. Sam scrubbed the same plate for three minutes until snapping out of it and turning the sink off. He took a deep breath and rehearsed the words in his head for the thousandth time. He walked over to Dean and Cas like a robot, Cas nudging Dean’s eyes away from the screen with a smile. (They had made a bet on when this would happen, and if it happened today, which is a week before the new year, Cas would win).   
“Dean?” Sam croaked.   
Dean turned the TV off, and threw Cas a look of defeat. “Dammit.”  
Sam raised his eyebrows.  
“No, kid, not you. Cas and I just made a bet on when you were gonna propose to Car, and I said after New Years, Cas said before.”  
Sam smiled, looking to the ceiling in disbelief.  
“No, I’m not proposing to her.” He chuckled.  
“What? Why the hell not?” Dean boomed.   
“I was going to, on New Years by the way, so you both would have been wrong, but-”  
“But, what?” Dean felt the worry come from inside him, spreading to every part of his body.  
“But, she kinda proposed to me.”   
The three sat in silence. Cas jumped up and pulled Sam into a hug.   
“My father has done a lot of messy things, but creating Carlye for you was not one of them.” Cas half-whispered.  
Dean stood up and looked his brother over.   
“Doesn’t she have to ask my permission or something?”   
They both smiled and hugged each other. Sam laughed heartily through tears that poured unapologetically.   
“You did it, man. I’m really proud of you.” Dean mumbled.   
Sam looked down at Cas’s swinging hand interlocked with his brother’s.   
“You too, man. You too.”


	3. The After That Followed the After

Dean headed to the library after the game to have lunch with Cas. He did this on weekends. Cas shot him a million questions about the games and the players, and clung onto every word Dean said. Cas was always at every game and practice he could attend, but library hours sometimes got in the way. They had both gotten attached to the kids; they found a hope inside them that wasn’t ever quenched, but never diminished.   
The bell rang overhead the door, and Sandy and her mother walked in. Sandy always said the best way to spend a weekend was reading.   
Cas stood up, wiping the bread crumbs from his hands and took place behind the desk. He leaned over to see Sandy behind the stand.  
“Hey, Sandy. What are we reading today?”   
Dean popped out behind Cas and flashed Sandy a smile.  
“You played good today, kid. I’ll tell ya, you’ve got a better swing than half the guys on the team.” He said with a wink.  
Sandy stuck her nose in the air with pride.   
“Thanks Coach Dean.” Then she marched off, disappearing behind the shelves.   
Cas and Dean laughed, and Dean went to the back room to clean up his stuff.   
“I’ll get out of your hair now.” He mumbled.  
Cas gave him a quick kiss and resumed his spot at the checkout.   
“Dean, you didn’t forget the-”  
“Almond milk? Getting it now, Cas.” He said with a sarcastic smile.   
On his way out, Sandy’s mother approached him.   
“Hey, there.” Dean said with his best fake grin. He wasn’t a huge fan of Janice Marsh.   
“Dean. You know, I think it’s incredibly irresponsible for you to be flaunting around with your ‘boyfriend’ at practices and such. And now the public library? Where kids are just going to learn? Don’t you think that’s a little naive?”   
Dean stood, stunned. He looked at Cas, who was craning to see what was going on with raised eyebrows.  
“Look, uh-” He cleared his throat, “We aren’t hurting anybody. It’s freaking 2025, are you telling me you aren’t okay with people living their lives how they please?”  
“Not if it hurts another, mentally speaking of course.”  
Dean took a deep breath and scratched the back of his head.   
“Miss, how many people are in your family?”  
“Well, I don’t see what this has to-”  
“Just answer the question.”  
She thought, counting in her head.  
“About twenty-three, including outside family.”  
Cas walked up.   
Dean smiled. “Well, two and one third people in your family are gay.”  
“That’s not true-”  
“One in ten, ma’am. It’s a fact.” Cas chirped, grabbing Dean’s hand in his own.   
“My family believes in God, and He does not think it is okay for two men or two-”  
“Actually, Janice, the lord is, how does he put it, Cas?” Dean looked to Cas with a smirk.  
“Utterly indifferent to sexual orientation.”  
Dean and Cas stood, almost dizzy with holding in their laugher. Mrs. Marsh stormed out, calling Sandy to follow her.

Sandy approached the checkout desk with a stack full of books thicker than her head. Cas veered over, Dean following close behind.   
Cas checked out each one with a BEEP.   
“There you are, Sandy. I hope you have a great rest of your weekend.” Cas grinned.  
“Good job, again.” Dean threw in.  
Sandy stared at them for a long time.   
“I’m sorry my mom is such a troll. Dean, you’re the best coach I’ve ever had. And, Cas, definitely the most fun librarian.” She sighed, pushing up her glasses that were much too big for her face.   
“It’s okay, hon. Some people just don’t know how to live.” Dean said.  
Sandy smiled real wide.  
“Wait till she finds out I like girls.” She shrugged and skipped off, leaving Dean and Cas in opened-mouth shock.

Dean picked up almond milk on the way home, and practically counted the minutes until Cas was off. When Cas stumbled into the house, Dean greeted him with a kiss.   
“What’s up with you?” Cas chuckled.

Dean breathed. In, out. In, out. He grabbed a coke from the fridge. There were no chicken livers for spells in there, or 40oz bottles of booze. He sat at the kitchen table that thrived on game nights, Robbie’s spit up, and spilt home-cooked meals. He looked at the walls around him and couldn’t ever recall throwing up a monster against any of them. The music that played rang through his brain with the memories of dancing with Cas. He looked down at his hands and saw faint scars of the man he used to be; a part of the man that would always be Dean Winchester.   
“Dean, are you okay? You’re scaring me.”  
Cas crouched down in front of Dean.   
Dean grabbed Cas’s face in his hand, not so he could wipe off any blood, or transport into a different time.   
“I’m good, Cas. I’m great.”


End file.
